


An Understanding

by Themaidsdiaries



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Jealous Valera, Sex, Unbeta'ed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:19:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themaidsdiaries/pseuds/Themaidsdiaries
Summary: Ulana and Boris had a night stand. While both wants to forget, Valery cannot think about anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, forgive my typos and grammar mistakes (or bad word choices).

_**"Be careful."** _

Ulana looks at the empty glass on the counter, even after she has looked Valery walk away to his room. For a minute she almost said "Wait!" and went up with him, for a moment she almost touched his hand, for a moment she considered inviting him to enter her room. The thought of throwing him on the bed and sitting over him was unbelievably exciting.

"Thought you would be in bed by now." Shcherbina takes her out of her daydream popping up practically out of nowhere beside her on the bar counter.

"I'm about to go." She says when he serves a glass of vodka for himself and another for her.

"Go to bed has never been so fucking depressing." Boris grunts and takes the vodka in one gulp, putting the glass back on the counter loudly.

Ulana stares at him for a moment, and has the impression that he is as desperate for relief as she is.

"Do you want to fuck?"

\---

She tries not to think too much about it, not while Boris presses her against the bedroom door and buries his face on her breasts, licking and wet kissing them through the open buttons of her blouse. Not when she curls a leg in his and feels his erection rub against her. Not when her hands run down his back to squeeze his ass. And definitely not when he pulls her panties aside, he puts two fingers inside her, completely wet and aroused.

Ulana does not think as they open buttons and zippers without bothering to actually take off their clothes. Nor when Boris opens her legs and press his mounth on her folds giving a sigh of pure satisfaction. She controls herself to moan as quietly as she can, she does't want anyone to hear them, to hear her. The sensation is pleasurable, Boris has an aggressive and biting tongue not just for words and his fingers are accurate coming in and out of her at a steady pace.

He stops before she cums and she does not return his attention. She keeps her eyes closed, especially when he crawls over her and his mounth goes back to her breasts. Her hands grip his back, feeling the outline of his broad strong shoulders. In her mind she imagines a pale complexion, studded with freckles, because _he has them on _his_ face, almost imperceptible, and she imagines that _he_ has them on his_ shoulders as well, that they may spread through _his_ arms length.

Boris enters her in a hard thrust and she moans again.

"So damn wet!" He grunts and she ignores him closing her eyes.

Ulana's imagination runs wild, the hair she grips tightly is brown, she hears low groans rather than hoarse grunts and the mouth kissing her is much more passionate.

She pulls Boris's hair as he bites her shoulder and fucks her harder. The warm sensation of pleasure begins to grow inside her, her center contracts with each new thrust and when she feels the edge of the orgasm he stops. _Shit._

Ulana opens her eyes momentarily and watches Boris get off of her to get rid of his clothes, but she doesn't do the same. Ignoring him she turns on the bed, staying on her hands and knees, and pulls a pillow for herself. 

Shcherbina raises her skirt, exposing her ass.

"Such a beatiful ass..." He grunts and his hand lightly slaps her ass. Boris tightens his grip on her bottom cheeks, running his hands lasciviously over them, then open them appart so he can look at her.

She moans again as he runs his tongue over her and groans a little louder against the pillow as his tongue penetrates her. The heat runs through her veins and she imagines hands of nimble fingers groping her ass, a timid smile against her intimacy.

Ulana imagines _him_ with her, thrusting on her, fast, deep, hard, imagining _his_ hands caressing her breasts, pulling her gently through her hair to nibble at her neck. Imagine _him_ moaning in her ear, _his_ body against hers, _his_ cock throbbing deep inside her.

"Oh, Valery ...." She moans when she finally comes hugging the pillow tightly.

Boris thrusts a few more times and comes with a hoarse grunt, holding her tightly on her hips.

Ulana collapses on the bed when he lets her go, and all they hear for a while is their panting breaths. Boris sits on the edge of the bed with his hands resting on the sheets. Neither of them moves from where they are. She knows she said _his_ name and knows that Boris heard.

"I think I should go back to my bedroom," he says hoarsely.

"I think you should." Ulana turns her face on the pillow to stare at him, but Boris has his back to her.

He stretches and picks up his clothes off the floor. It does not take him long to get dressed and she puts her skirt in place when she sits on the bed.

They look at each other. The understanding between them is mutual.

"Good night, Shcherbina."

"Have good dreams, Khomyuk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bori's pov after sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so please, forgive my typos, my grammar mistakes and my poor word choices.

_**“Oh, Valery...”** _

Hear that surprised him, definitely. But his surprise had nothing to do with the fact that Ulana was thinking of Valera. Actually he was surprised with her lost of self-control, composure, for letting him see behind her façade.

Khomyuk was a strong woman, a shrewd and unbeatable opponent, but she had sweetness in herself... Sweet lips, sweet ass and sweet cunt. Death might not be all he would think of in the coming months if she would accept a casual session of uncompromising sex once in a while. He would not object to this, minimally. And she could moan for Valera as much as she wanted. The thought of asking her what she was imagining was strangely exciting.

Boris smiled as the lock clicked closed.

It was when he turned around that he saw _him_.

Valery was standing in the middle of the hall, tidy and cool as if ready for another day's work at the institute. His face, however, pale, paler than the normal pale he bears. His eyes widened, his mouth slight open. He did not even seem to breathe. _Fuck!_

Boris looked at him equally surprised and the smile died on his lips.

“What are you doing here, Valera?” He asked trying to look causal and failing miserably.

Why are you standing in the doorway of the woman's room who just came all over my cock calling your name? The thought crossed his mind and he realized that no, uncommitted sex sessions between him and Khomyuk were out of the question at any time in future.

His heart was pounding as they stared at each other. He saw in his friend the discomfort, he saw his horror, his anger, his jealousy, his envy. There was no doubt about what had happened, excuses would not be effective and would not be given. Boris knew that he was disheveled, that his clothes were badly tidy, that his face was shining with sweat, that he smelled of her.

Shit, he had her taste in his mouth, her smell impregnated on his fingers and her juice on his cock. What the hell had he done? He knew it, he knew, and yet he got carried away by the moment, by easy fuck with the pretty lady. He knew that Valery and Ulana wanted each other and there he was, the third unwanted, the complication.

"I thought I heard a noise," Valera lied disjointedly, obviously. He knew, they knew.

"Maybe you had a dream." He saw the horror in Valery's expression, felt his discomfort, felt his tension.

He had kissed her, he had touched her, he had fucked her. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake, a damn joke of bad taste. Boris saw that Valery felt betrayed, deceived, full of rage.

He wanted to say something, but would it help? Tell Valery that was him who she wants would improve the situation? No, of course not. This was a matter that should not be debated; on the contrary, it was something everyone had to forget. Forget, and pretend it never happened.

Valery's hands were clenched into fists. His shallow breathing and his eyes made clear his anger, his pain. Hurting him that way was something Boris never wanted to do. But he did. 

_Sex, Valera, it was just sex. Something physical, a need, like eating, breathing, or shitting._

_Don't hate me, please, don't hate me._

Valery does nothing, says nothing, just stands there for long seconds. Then he swallows dryly and sonorously, and blinks a few times, averting his gaze at last and says robotically, his voice shaking: "Night."

"Night." Boris voice is less than a murmur.

Boris watches his friend walk away and it's painful, it's sad, it's agonizing. He watches Valery enter his room and shut the door quietly behind him, and when he walks past his door to his own room, he pretends not to hear the sound of an object hitting the wall, but makes a mental note for arranging a new phone .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind comments. They bring me so much joy and any feedback is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valery's POV.

The meeting makes him anxious and the wait seems to be eternal. He moves in his seat all the time, going over the absurd numbers mentally. But what aspect of Chernobyl's situation is not absurd? None, and that gives him a lot to focus on. Work is a relief valve, always has been. Everything was under control, it was.

 _ **"Khomyuk was arrested last night."**_ Boris says and can barely look at him when he does.

No matter what Boris says he is doing, the mere chance of her being arrested was frightening, the event in fact was something he could not even process. Unbelievable, inadmissible, unthinkable. Ulana was part of Chernobyl's Commission. She's a capable and brilliant scientist. Why arrest her?

He wants answers, immediate answers. He wants her out of that hell, wants to get her out of there himself and make sure of her well being. He needs to do something. Boris's politicking was delicate, intricate, time-consuming, and required patience that at that moment he certainly did not have. That eagerness and the way Charkov had looked at him during the meeting was enough to fill him with an  
dangeous impertinent courage.

 _ **"I need her,"**_ He said, exposing himself. Three short words, but with immense and devastating meaning, even to his own ears. 

Charkov doesn't give that confession much thought and then Valery finds himself agreeing to be responsible for her. The implications of this damning act does't matters, absolutely nothing matters. He would have begged if need be, but on second thought, perhaps his request sounded as such as begging. Again, it doesn't matter, he doesn't care.

If, on the one hand, Charkov doesn't think much about it, Boris seems to think, and his expression... Valery can't translate it. Perhaps he is intruding on their agreement, he considers, unwillingly to define more closely the possible nature of their relationship.

 _ **“No, that went surprisingly well. You come off like a naive idiot, and a naive idiots are not a threat."**_ Boris says, an arched eyebrow, and leaves him alone.

Was he talking about Charkov or about himself? It doesn't matter, not when his will has been satisfied, not when he gets the car and asks the driver to drive him to her, not when Boris just walked away and left the way clear for him to be her hero that night.

It is foolish to create the slightest hope, he knows

Ulana is physically well, that's a relief, but her mood is fragile, she looks extremely tired and mentally exhausted. He understands, he feels the same way. They exchange their confidences in the dark cell and when he looks at her it's impossible not to imagine how things could have been if he hadn't resisted.

Valery discovers that lying to her is as hard as telling her some truths. Well, to be fair to himself, he omits more than lies, and yet the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Sooner or later she will find out why the reactor had exploded and he could tell her there in that bank to save her work, to get her out of that emotionally exhausting situation, but he doesn't.

He doesn't tell her first out of selfishness. The idea of her going back to Minsk and the two of them never meeting again was something he didn't want, not yet. Nor that she find he knew about the RBMK reactor constructions problems and didn't do anything about it. 

He doens't tell her for safety. The idea of her returning to Chernobyl and being exposed to more radiation was unacceptable, in Moscow she would be safer.

“Can you keep me company tonight?” She asks as they walk towards the car. Valery just nods, completely unable to say anything.

He helps her slide down on the car's backseat and he puts her bag in the car's trunk, not surprised that _they_ rummaged through her things in the hotel room, or apprehended all her belongings right after her arrest.

When he sits next to her in the car's backset he gives the driver the address of his own apartment before lighting a cigarette and take a long trag. He hopes the nicotine will relieve his momentary anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ulana's and Valery's POV

"I'm sorry there's nothing to eat but canned goods." He says quietly, placing a plate of boiled canned soup in front of her.

"It's ok." She responds with a murmur.

Ulana almost changed her mind in the car and maybe she should have done that. Go back to the hotel, having a shower and falling into bed for some comfort., that's what she should have done. Go to Valery's apartment had been a bad idea.

She didn't want to see how he lived, didn't want to circle his stuff, didn't want to bathe in his shower, didn't want to sleep in his bed, didn't want to meet his cat or sit with him at the kitchen table for dinner with her hair still wet and wearing a robe over her simple nightdress . She didn't want to fit into the context of his life and imagine what it could be or might have been like in another reality.

And yet,here she was, invading his privacy, taking up the empty space across the table and consequently a place that seemed not to exist in Valery's life. It was clear that he did not receive visitors here. She had become the exception.

Ulana eat her soup in small spoonfuls as she received indecipherable glances from time to time from a tense and obviously tired Valery. _A coin for your thoughts._

“They contacted you to tell I was arrested?” Is what she asks, more to push her thoughts away than the real need to start a conversation.

“No, Shcherbina got the news from the office before our meeting this afternoon.” He sounds annoyed and doesn't look straight at her when he says it.

"You'll have to thank Comrade Shcherbina for me, the next time you see him."

The request negatively surprises him and it is obvious to her from the way he looks at her. They face each other for a moment.

“For what?” Valery's expression turns dark and with a touch of irony.

“For taking me out of custody.” Her words make him snort.

“He didn't.” He starts, but stops, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped over his plate. A sigh escapes his lips as he seems to organize his thoughts. “He was working on it, you would be there for a couple of days at least.''

“So how…” Maybe it's the tiredness from the night in detention, but it takes her a few seconds to understand what he's saying. It wasn't Boris who got her out, it was him, and that's a terrifying idea in itself. Valery is too direct and has too little patience to deal with political games. "What have you done, Valery?

“I just took you out of there. I was worried they could’ve hurt you and I did what I have to do. There’s nothing for you to worry about it.”

''As important as you are, the KGB wouldn’t let me go just because you asked.” She sounds sour, even to your ears, although that is not her intent.

"Ulana, please ..." He takes off his glasses with one hand and holds it by the rod as he digs his thumb into the inner corners of his eyes.

Ulana knows that gesture, she had seen it before enough times to understand his tiredness, his impatience and his desire to hide.

''Tell me." She insists.

"I'm accountable of you now."

Then that's it. Like a child, like an immature young girl, like a danger. She feels incredibly diminished, not by him, by the situation in which they were placed.

“You shouldn't have done that.” Ulana's voice is just like lint.

“It was my choice to make.”

“I'm not your child, or your student nor your wife for you be accountable to me.”

She sounds even harder and his gaze… For a brief second look of his is just pain, regret, sadness, but when he speaks, his tone is firm and he seems seemingly unshaken. “I'm aware of that; nevertheless, I am now accountable for you.” Then he puts his glasses back on his face, this time, using both hands. 

___

Valery tries not to get caught up in watching how perfectly she looks around his belongings, or how she fits right across the table having dinner with him, or sitting on the couch with a book in her hands and the cat in her lap wearing her bedtime clothes and her glasses slipping down her nose.

He doesn't usually get visitors, in fact he can't even remember the last time anyone spent the night there, or who it was, but Ulana... She could stay there forever and would never be weird, or bothering, or distressing. Even when the conversation takes turns he doesn't like and even when she makes him admit his mistakes.

Sitting on the makeshift bed he has arranged for himself on the living room rug he cannot watch her on the couch behind him and he feels aware that she can see the top of his head and what he is reading. Small and unimportant details that make him anxious nonetheless and he smokes to try to relax.

The minutes go on and the only noise is the turning of the pages. The only movement is the cat wandering the room, curious about the strange presence there.

“Do you want tea?” He asks, the book set aside, the cover away from his legs, his eyes fixed on her.

Extreme tiredness sometimes prevents the person from sleeping and that is how she is at that moment. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen, her face visibly tired, the fingertips of her left hand massaging the back of her neck.

"Yes, that would be nice."

The kitchen clock strikes 9:43 PM and he paces the narrow kitchen space from side to side.

Valery hides there while the water boils in the kettle. He never thought that spending the night with her would end up being like that. No, he imagined something more intimate, wrapped in delicate and subtle feelings and touches, whispered words and ... He sighs, it's tragically ironic on the one hand, but comfortable on the other, and he couldn't help wondering if she and Boris had shared moments like this, when the silence between them was normal and comfortable.

 _Probably not_ , he tells himself and tries not to imagine what they do when they are alone together.

When he finally returns to the living room, he puts the teas on the table next to the sofa. Ulana had finally fallen asleep and he carefully takes the book out of her hands. He then removes the glasses from her face even more delicately. He should wake her up and make her go to sleep in the comfort of the bed, but he just fetches the blanket from the bedroom and arranges it over her without a sound.

As he drinks tea he wonders if he should say something to her in the morning. _“I don't know what's happening between you and Boris, I don't know if you are together or… I just want you to know that I… I care deeply about you.”_

Bad idea, he knows and fate helps him not to compromise himself further, because when he wakes up with the phone ringing, she is gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boris pov

He hates to find him at the bar late at night, sitting at the counter with his head on his fist and a glass of vodka swaying between his fingers. A bottle almost always nearly empty for company and admiring old notes, all mixed and meaningless. He knew what he was doing there and it bothered him. It was easy to try to ignore, to try.

They only had each other for company most of the time, and it was funny to look at this man, this man so different from himself, so simple, so highly educated and so utterly naive in some matters. Valery had become his friend, perhaps his only sincere friend in a lifetime, and seeing him with that mood bothers him more than he would ever admit.

“Let's go for a walk.” It would be best to go to bed and ignore that pathetic scene.

"I'm tired Boria, go to sleep, I'll be in bed soon." Valera's voice is slurred and his movements to gather the notes are a little lethargic, making in a messy and crumpled pile. There is no reason for him to try to hide what they are, not after so many months.

“No, we're going for a walk. Now.” He commands again, and this time Valera doesn't argue.

Even drunk Valery's eyes seek something in his. Maybe a clue, maybe an answer. And Boris has a feeling he sees something there, in his serious, tired look that makes him stand up. Boris thanks the heavens for not having to drag him out by force.

“Keep the damn notes!” He grumbles as Valery leaves them on the counter and threatens to leave them behind.

The cool breeze is a balm, even after spending just a few minutes inside the hotel. Outside, in the starry sky, the breeze, and the radiation, Boris was more relieved from the pressure at large, but looking at his friend made him uneasy. He had made up his mind that evening in early May that he wasn't going to talk about it. But, give it a few months, several shots of vodka and a collection of bad days, some convictions breaks down.

And he, after all, was an inconsequential man. His inconsequence had taken him to Khomyuk's bed and wounded Valery, now his inconsequence might hurt him again, but who knows... Who knows!

“Is there something you want to ask me?” He says finally as they walk side by side through the small abandoned park. Even the dogs are gone.

“About?” Valery asks with a raised eyebrow and a certain amount of curiosity.

Boris shoves his hands in his pants pockets and stares at the pavement. One step, two steps, three steps. This is ridiculous, he thinks to himself. "About that night." When he speaks his voice sounds low.

The tension is tangible for a moment and Boris stares at him, despite the urge to simply look away and turn on his heel.

Valery laughs scornfully and looks away. "I think everything was very clear that night."

"I have a feeling you might have misinterpreted that night."

“You had sex.” Although right, it obviously hurt in him.

"Yes, we had sex."

Valery simply nodded, unable to look at him for a while. He knew, Boris thought, he knew at that moment, there's no reason for him to be angrier now. And in fact it was not anger that the professor showed, it was a sarcastic disdain, acid words and a endless hardness.

“What should I ask about this? Don't tell me you want to share the experience with me? Tell how it went? Or maybe you want to share with me how things have been between you?” He said, his lips curved in mockery. “Do you think I'm really interested to know? Because no, I'm not. ”

Valera was an idiot, a real idiot! Boris, unable to contain himself, stopped walking and began to laugh, and immediately Valery's expression changed from sarcasm to anger.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Valery approached him, his face inches from Boris. 

Boris could smell the vodka on his breath, see his dirty glasses and narrow eyes behind the lens, could see his shaggy hair and dirty shirt under his jacket, could feel his anger growing and the shape with his expression grow more every second. That was bad.

“Yes, you're a fucking idiot! How can such a bright and intelligent man be such an idiot?” Boris put his hands on Valery's shoulder to calm him down, but the gesture was flawed, he couldn't stop laughing.

“You're the idiot here! Do you think it's funny to laugh at me? Of my feelings? ”

“You think she and I have a relationship! Is that what you have been swallowing for the last few months? Damn! It was just a night of sex and if you had been a little smarter it would have been you in bed with her, not me.”

Getting worse and worse. Despite the alarms ringing in his head, the words fled from his mouth, all wrong, all clumsy, all liable to misinterpretation. Amazing, he thought to himself, I'm an idiot too.

For a man who dealt with so many important situations he was surprised by the mess he had done, but it was impossible not to laugh. After all, how had Valery come to that conclusion? What relationship would they have? It was easier for him to be relating to Valery than to a woman he hadn't seen since May.

“What are you saying?” Valery's hands balled into fists with the fabric of Boris's jacket between her fingers and the two stared at each other closely for a moment.

Boris knew how his words had sounded, as if Khomyuk were a slut.

The laughter was gone from his face and he looked at his friend, but Valery didn't move. “Let me go and listen.” The orderly tone, the harsh voice and the intense gaze. “Let me go now!” He shoved Valery by the shoulders. He broke free, but Valery stumbled backward and for a moment, swaying dangerously, Boris thought he was going to fall on his ass.

“Khomyuk” He resumed when the two faced each other. “She was interested in you, but you didn't understand that, did you? She thought you weren't interested then…” Boris shrugged with an exasperated look on his face. Then I fucked her, he finished in thought.

Valery wobbles again, but this time it's not from anger, he looks about to throw up. His hands rub his face and eyes hard, lifting his glassess from his nose to his forehead with each movement. His breath comes out of his heavenly through his mouth, and he exhales again and again.

Boris just hopes that this will bring him some relief, some momentary peace or perhaps a hint of hope. Soon their work there will end and who knows ...

"I'm a fucking idiot," Valery says in a weak voice and his gaze is one of pure desolation.

"I think I just said that to you."

Long seconds pass and Boris can almost see through Valera's face his intoxicated brain thinking the possibilities, trying to make a decision of what he could or should do. He feels compelled to say, “Go fix it,” but before he can, Valery opens his mouth.

"Do you think I should ..." Valery makes a broad hand gesture, unable to complete the question, but he doesn't have to, Boris knows what he means.

"Yes, you should go."

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
